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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27640594">the perfect weather</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/onyourleft084/pseuds/theycallmeDernhelm'>theycallmeDernhelm (onyourleft084)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>and after all this time/i’m still into you [37]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ice Skating, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Armageddon, Slice of Life, Snow Angels, Snow Day, Tadfield, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Wahoo Winter Gift Exchange 2020, Winter fun, all fluff, domestic ineffable husbands, holiday fic, just let them be happy!, non-explicit sex scene, written on request</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:02:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,130</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27640594</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/onyourleft084/pseuds/theycallmeDernhelm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It is said that the little village of Tadfield always has the perfect weather for the season.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>and after all this time/i’m still into you [37]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1515578</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Wahoo Winter Gift Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the perfect weather</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the Wahoo Winter Gift Exchange for @foolishprncplty on Twitter- hope you like it, my dear!</p><p>And hope all y'all like it, too :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On the first snowfall of the season, Crowley found himself woken by a surprisingly excited angel. </p><p>“Crowley! Wake up, my dear.”</p><p>It was always so nice to open his eyes in the morning and have the first thing he saw be Aziraphale’s eyes, such a unique blue-green-grey angel colour. They seemed to have an extra twinkle in them this particular morning. </p><p>Crowley mumbled something vaguely conscious before managing, “Wha’?”</p><p>“It’s snowing,” said Aziraphale delightedly, and his smile was almost beatific. </p><p>Crowley rolled over in bed—their bed— and propped himself up on one elbow to look outside. Aziraphale had pulled the curtains back to show a glittering view of the garden and the road outside, all covered in a steadily-thickening blanket of snow. More was coming down, the white flakes like so many soft angel feathers. </p><p>Aziraphale practically wiggled. “Oh, isn’t it marvellous? Newton always said that Tadfield had the perfect weather for the season. It’s been a phenomenon for the last twelve years. Now I wonder why that is?” He added, and quirked a humorous eyebrow at the demon.</p><p>“Something to do with someone whose name sounds like ‘Schmadam Schmoung’.”</p><p>“It’s such a beautiful day,” Aziraphale sighed happily. </p><p>“Mmghfk...Angel, I think your idea and my idea of ‘a beautiful day’ are two very different things.” Crowley grabbed the edge of the duvet to pull over his head so he could curl back up in bed again.</p><p>Aziraphale simply pulled the other end of the duvet down to reveal Crowley’s face, which was scrunched up stubbornly. “Come on now, I’m making us some nice hot cocoa with cinnamon and your favourite jam pancakes. This snowfall’s bound to let up shortly and then we can see just how lovely Tadfield is in winter! Aren’t you so glad we decided to move here?” </p><p>Crowley couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah.”</p><p>And it was true. He’d never seen Aziraphale quite so happy before. It must be something to do with the fact that he was no longer being watched by his superiors in Heaven. It must be because the world wasn’t going to end after all. It must be because he was now living with his best friend and the love of his life in a small cottage in this village, where they’d moved to with the intention of keeping an eye on the boy who was once the Antichrist and ended up throwing themselves into domestic bliss and everything that came with it. Crowley slipped out of bed and allowed his bare toes to sink into the plush grey rug at the foot of his side of the bed. Well, that was part of the domestic bliss, too. That was just the thing about living with Aziraphale— he knew how to have things just so. How to make a house a home, and how to spoil one’s husband...and how to spend a perfect snow day. </p><p>By the time Crowley padded out of the bedroom, the whole kitchen smelled of chocolate and cinnamon. Crowley took a deep inhale. “You keep making that, and soon enough all the kids’ll be at our door, clamouring for some cocoa. We’ll have to barricade the windows!”</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aziraphale said, but he was laughing. </p><p>“It’s not unlikely. You remember how crazy they were at Halloween.” <br/>
“Only because word got out that we had a never-ending supply of candy,” Aziraphale said primly. </p><p>“Spoil a whole village, we will,” mumbled Crowley, and he snatched the jam pot off the tray Aziraphale was carrying as he set down their breakfast. “Ohh, good stuff, Angel. You get this from our summer berries?” </p><p>Aziraphale beamed. “I certainly did. Thank you for growing them, by the way,” he added, and leaned over to kiss Crowley on the cheek. </p><p>“Ngk.” </p><p>“You did everything around here during summer,” Aziraphale went on. “Tending the garden, growing all the good things, driving us down to the beach...” </p><p>“Can’t do that anymore,” sighed Crowley, glancing dramatically out the window.</p><p>“Now it’s my turn to keep us entertained during the winter,” Aziraphale said adamantly. “The weather is perfect for a lovely wintertime stroll.”</p><p>Crowley popped a forkful of pancake slathered in jam into his mouth. “Oh, Angel, snakes don’t do cold, remember? You’ll make me freeze to death.” You could still taste the summer in those berries. Was that one of Aziraphale’s miracles, or one of his?</p><p>“I’ll wrap you up so that you don’t get cold,” Aziraphale said, looking at him imploringly. </p><p>Not for the first time, Crowley felt utterly damned. He could never say no to those eyes. </p><p>And he did not say no when later, Aziraphale piled three layers of warm clothing onto him and strung a length of soft grey scarf around his neck and crammed a dark green woollen hat onto his head, pulling it snugly over his ears. Crowley’s amber eyes glared up at him from beneath them. </p><p>Aziraphale smiled. “Quite warm, dear?” </p><p>“...quite warm, Angel.”</p><p>And then one of Aziraphale’s tartan-mittened hands was slipping into one of Crowley’s black-mittened ones, and they were pushing the door open into the sparkling stillness of Tadfield just after the snowfall had ended.</p><p>It was still early enough in the day for the small, sleepy village to still be quiet, with only a couple of cars cruising along at a leisurely speed and a few people ambling about to get their morning errands out of the way.</p><p>It occurred to Aziraphale that Crowley had let go of his hand, and was now squatting in the snow, gathering snowballs together with a cheeky grin that crinkled his whole face up underneath the folds of his scarf. </p><p>“I’m gonna do it,” he said, straightening and pulling his arm back to take aim at the next car that came driving past. </p><p>“You wily old— no, Crowley!” yelped Aziraphale. He flicked his wrist and the snowball burst, directly in Crowley’s face. </p><p>“Ow! No fair!” </p><p>“Must I always keep you from doing wicked things, you foul fiend?!” </p><p>“‘S just a harmless old snowball!” Crowley protested. “Fine, what about that guy?” He pointed at an old gentleman walking his dog along the opposite footpath. </p><p>Aziraphale’s eyes practically bugged. He knocked the next snowball out of Crowley’s hands just as he was beginning to form it. “Crowley, that is Mr. Tyler, the chairman of the Residents’ Association!” </p><p>“I’m sorry, is that supposed to mean something to me?” And quite suddenly there was another snowball in Crowley’s hand. The absolute menace. Aziraphale abandoned all pretences of dignity and lunged at Crowley, tackling him entirely to the snowy ground. </p><p>If any passers-by noticed two celestial beings shaped like fully-grown men scuffling in the snow like a pair of pre-schoolers, they had the good sense to pay them no mind.</p><p>“Honestly, the ridiculous things you make me do.” </p><p>“Whoa now! Can’t go two minutes without trying to climb on top of me, eh Angel?” Crowley laughed, his head tilted back and mouth wide open as he sprawled out, his long arms and legs clearing wide sweeps of snow. “Hey look, a snow angel! Just like you!”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled, unable to be cross with Crowley for long. “You’re like a big child, you know that?” </p><p>“Aziraphale, you’re ignoring the angel,” Crowley deadpanned, in a tone that one might use to point out a legal loophole. “Unless you already know that you’re the prettiest angel around here,” </p><p>“Well perhaps I am,” Aziraphale said haughtily, propping himself up on one elbow. </p><p>Crowley grinned. “Love you, you old bastard.” </p><p>“I love you, too.” </p><p>“There’s a snow angel,” Crowley declared, sprinkling some snow onto Aziraphale’s face. </p><p>“Stop it!” Aziraphale exclaimed with a laugh, then caught sight of something just over Crowley’s shoulder and said “Stop it, now, look who’s coming!”</p><p>They both got up hastily to see four familiar figures, all bundled up for winter, trudging up the footpath. </p><p>“Hello!” Aziraphale exclaimed, bracing his arms on the fence, “Adam, Brian, Pepper...young Jeremy!” </p><p>(Aziraphale was the only person who ever called Jeremy Wensleydale by his first name, and the only person who could get away with it.) </p><p>“Hey guys,” Adam said, with all the air of a benevolent prince riding through his domain, and pleased to see that his subjects were thriving. “What’s going on? Did you fall over?” Dog stood by his feet, his tail wagging politely. </p><p>“Well, <em>he</em> fell,” Crowley said, jerking a thumb at Aziraphale, “and then he pulled me down with him. Typical, if you ask me.”</p><p>Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Oh, good Lord.”</p><p>“Where’re you off to?” Crowley said curiously, noticing that the Them all had pairs of skates slung over their shoulders. </p><p>“Wouldn’t you like to know,” scoffed Pepper, at the same time Brian blurted out “We’re going skating! The creek’s frozen over.” </p><p>“The creek’s frozen over, you say?”</p><p>“Yeah!”</p><p>“Well, well,” Crowley said, leaning his arms on the fence. “That sounds like fun. Mind how you kids go, then.” </p><p>“We will,” Adam said self-confidently, and with a series of polite waves they departed. </p><p>Crowley waited for them to leave before taking his sunglasses off and cleaning the snow off them. “Angel, did you hear that? Creek’s frozen over!”</p><p>“That’s nice, dear.”</p><p>“Hello...aren’t you getting it?” Crowley circled him like a hyena. “Creek. Has. Frozen. Over. We can go skating, just like them!” </p><p>Aziraphale reddened. “Crowley, I...I can’t skate.” </p><p>Crowley’s jaw fell open. “Can’t— not even that one dreadful, magnificent time when the Thames froze over? Not even when the ancient Finnish people started doing it?”</p><p>“Well, my side invented skating and gifted the skill to them...but I hadn’t anything to do with it.” </p><p>“Then we can try now! I’ll show you. There’s nothing to it.”</p><p>“Crowley, I have had enough falls this morning, thank you very much.” </p><p>“‘M not going to let you fall, Angel.” Crowley raised his hand solemnly. “I swear. On my sweet bippy. On your sweet bippy.” </p><p>Aziraphale smiled, despite himself. “I suppose I could give it a try.” </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Trying new things was not an Aziraphale thing to do. He liked being in his comfort zone, but since living with Crowley, Aziraphale found that comfort zone slowly expanding. Crowley was always there to support him, and he was quite literally doing it now; one hand on the small of Aziraphale’s back and the other guiding him along, providing balance. His lean frame was warm and comforting against Aziraphale’s side as they skated, slowly, along the creek, while Adam and his friends alternately whizzed past and screamed at the top of their lungs or cruised side by side chattering animatedly. Dog insisted on joining the fun, even if all he managed was to skitter and skid along on four paws.</p><p>“You’re doing amazing,” Crowley said reassuringly, and Aziraphale felt a glow of pride. </p><p>“I’ve stopped wobbling so much, that’s for sure. Wouldn’t you like to go on ahead?” Aziraphale added, watching Brian careen along at top speed with his arms raised back like a ninja in one of those colourful Japanese cartoons Crowley would often watch. </p><p>“And let you topple over? No way.” </p><p>“I’m slowing you down.” </p><p>A gentle squeeze on Aziraphale’s side. “Don’t mind going slow. Better than leaving you behind.” </p><p>When, a couple of hours later, the snow started to fall again, Aziraphale knew just what to do. He coaxed all the children off the ice as the snowfall began to get heavier. When little Wensleydale’s teeth started to chatter, Crowley caught the soft look on Aziraphale’s face. </p><p>“Aw, Angel, please don’t tell me you’re going to invite them over for cocoa.” </p><p>He did. </p><p>And it wasn’t too bad, actually, having the little cottage fill with the children’s noise and laughter. Aziraphale (and by extension, Crowley) let them make a fort in front of the fireplace with the pillows and blankets that had somehow miraculously appeared, freshly washed, atop the bureau; they found some old board games for them to play, they caught the ending of an old Christmas movie on the ancient telly (the one from the bookshop, because Crowley knew better than to subject Aziraphale to the tedious newfangledness of the flat-screen from his old apartment), and they drank cups, and cups, and cups of the angel’s sweet hot cocoa— with marshmallows and cinnamon sprinkles and even, for Pepper, a heaping pile of whipped cream. </p><p>When the snowfall finally let up, Crowley drove them all home, amidst cries of “Are those bullet holes??? Who shot at you?!” And “they’re just stickers, dummy!”</p><p>He tried, very hard, to hide the grin on his face. These kids weren’t so bad.</p><p>Then it was a quiet, rattling drive home through another gathering snowfall, past serene Christmas lights on their neighbours’ houses and friendly snowmen standing guard in front yards.</p><p>Crowley came in through the garage door, which led into the kitchen, to find it empty and the cocoa mugs left scattered on the table. With a sigh, he started to pack away, hoping to get it out of the way before the day ended.</p><p>It wasn’t long before Aziraphale came into the kitchen. He watched Crowley, a fond look on his face. “I had fun today.” </p><p>“Yeah? Me too, Angel.” He smiled. “Even if you did invite the little brats over.” </p><p>“They made quite a ruckus.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t be very good at being kids if they didn’t.” He’d tidied the dining table and was about to get a start on washing the dishes, but was stopped by Aziraphale’s soft hand on his wrist. When Crowley looked up, it was into those eyes again, the same ones that had greeted him this morning, all the greys and blues of a wintertime sky. When had Aziraphale moved in so close? </p><p>“I still like it best when I have you all to myself,” Aziraphale said softly, and he leaned in to kiss Crowley. </p><p>He knew, from the nature of the kiss, that this was not a simple ‘I love you’ kiss, or a ‘goodnight’ kiss, or even a ‘just ‘cause’ kiss. It was one of Aziraphale’s ‘make love to me’ kisses. Crowley felt his whole body loosening up, giving itself in surrender to the divine creature who had somehow stolen his heart. </p><p>“Come on,” Aziraphale coaxed gently, a smile on his face. “Washing up can wait.” He tugged on Crowley’s hand and of course, Crowley followed him.</p><p>They went out into the living room, where the fireplace was now the only source of light save for a single yellow lamp. The whole room was washed in warm, almost burning gold, so different to the dark and cold outside. There was a nest of sorts made up in front of the fireplace, where the Them had been playing not too long ago, with a soft quilt and throw pillows on the floor and the plush, faux-fur rug underneath. It occurred to Crowley that Aziraphale must have been waiting the whole day to do this. </p><p>It seemed then that his whole world was filled with Aziraphale, and the taste of his lips and the soft feeling of his body against Crowley’s as the angel kissed him again. “I love you,” he sighed, indulgently. Oh, how Aziraphale loved to indulge himself on Crowley, the way he savoured his favourite foods or relished an old, familiar book. And oh, how Crowley loved to be indulged in. </p><p>“I know, Angel. You said that a lot today.” </p><p>“It bears repeating. I’m still trying to make up for the last six thousand years.”</p><p>Crowley grinned into his soft white hair. “Don’t suppose you’d mind <em>reminding</em> me again. Very, very thoroughly, so I don’t forget.”</p><p>Aziraphale said nothing. He didn’t have to. There was just a gentle smile and soft, strong hands that guided Crowley to the floor. They sank into the cushions and took off each other’s clothes and it was all right, quite all right, despite the bitter cold outside. In here it was warm, drenched in love, and Aziraphale could feel Crowley right at the centre. The firelight turned his eyes to molten gold, his hair to burnished copper. </p><p>“You’re so beautiful like this,” murmured Aziraphale, taking Crowley in his arms. </p><p>“Y-you make me feel beautiful like this,” Crowley said, his breath already hitching as Aziraphale started kissing on his neck. (He loved Crowley’s neck, the tender and hollow parts, the tendons. He loved the way it bared itself to his mouth in complete and total surrender.) A rush of heat flooded Crowley’s body, like stepping into the deep end of a hot spring. It was going to be one of those nights when Aziraphale was in complete control, huh? One of those nights. When he’d praise and lavish sweetness on Crowley so that he’d come undone entirely, like a wool scarf unraveling between his hands. That was Aziraphale’s favourite way to be dominant in bed; not with roughness, but with tenderness. </p><p>It was always incredibly effective.</p><p>Aziraphale went on murmuring soft, praising things into Crowley’s ear, as he laid the demon down and let his hands run all over, as he dragged his lips over Crowley’s skin; he whispered sweet admirations as if saying them again for the first time while he fucked Crowley slowly and quite thoroughly, like Crowley had suggested, until he was entirely incapable of speech. And something warm and bright flared deep in Crowley’s core, something he‘d only felt once before at the dawn of time amidst bursting supernovae and infant stars. Something left over from before the Fall. Something...divine. </p><p>If Aziraphale noticed it, he said nothing.</p><p>Afterward, Crowley sank into Aziraphale’s arms, cocooned in the warm comfort of an angel’s embrace. He’d supported Aziraphale earlier, on the ice, and now Aziraphale was supporting him, his chest to Crowley’s back and his arms strong and protective around him. They breathed, almost in sync, while the fire crackled and the windows rattled. </p><p>“Is every day going to be like this?” Crowley murmured. </p><p>“It can be. If you like,” Aziraphale murmured into his hair. And then, anxiously, because Aziraphale couldn’t help it, “It’s not awful, is it? I mean, you’re not going to get bored?” </p><p>“Bored?” </p><p>“Oh, I don’t know,” Aziraphale said uneasily, still holding Crowley, “You’ve always been a fast mover, going from one thing to the next...what if you get tired of it here?” </p><p>Crowley rolled over in his arms, and his eyes were wide and and golden and searching. “Angel,” he said softly. “I’ve got you now. Why else would I go looking for anything else?” </p><p>Why, indeed. </p><p>Aziraphale smiled, and sniffed, and laid his head on Crowley’s shoulder, and they held each other and drifted off into sleep. </p><p>It had been a good day. </p><p>And if every day afterward was going to be just like this one, then Crowley thought that would be perfect. Absolutely perfect. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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